


the living dead fill every room

by thirtysecondson



Series: Lore Olympus October Prompt Series [2]
Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Domination, F/M, I really don't know how to categorize it?, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, are these enough tags?, if you squint? - Freeform, some minor, themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 12:43:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20874398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirtysecondson/pseuds/thirtysecondson
Summary: They had promised this would never happen again. And then she had a fight with Zeus, he had too much to drink, and pizza really did sound good, all things considered, when she offered to swing by with some. As if the Underworld were only a quick jaunt from Olympus.“You only mentioned the pizza,” Hades groaned, watching her remove long rain sodden boots that made his mouth water. She came in without much invitation, invading his space fully and watching him lament having accepted her offer. Hera was brilliant, and the pizza she placed on the counter with a cold six pack had him wandering nearer, cautious but pliant.----------In which Hera is delighted at her control over another God. Even if it's the wrong King. Hera exercises said control SEXUALLY~Prompt #2: OTP Night In





	the living dead fill every room

They had promised this would never happen again. And then she had a fight with Zeus, he had too much to drink, and pizza really did sound good, all things considered, when she offered to swing by with some. As if the Underworld were only a quick jaunt from Olympus. When she appeared in a trench coat he assumed it had been the weather, raining with a force that had made him shudder at the start, but when Hera made herself comfortable, she had a habit of doing so with impeccable fortitude. She was naked save for a set of lingerie she knew he’d admired, navy blue satin with an eyelash lace trim that made the gold in her skin shine.

“You only mentioned the pizza,” Hades groaned, watching her remove long rain sodden boots that made his mouth water. She came in without much invitation, invading his space fully and watching him lament having accepted her offer. Hera was brilliant, and the pizza she placed on the counter with a cold six pack had him wandering nearer, cautious but pliant.

“Would you like me to leave?” Her voice was curt, and knowing in a way that should have made him uneasy. Instead it was calming, like a balm he hadn’t known he needed. Hades shook his head, grabbing two plates from the overstocked cabinet and handing her one. Hera took the time to catch her reflection in the shiny black, tucking a wet strand of hair back into her braid. He’d always loved her hair braided. A remnant of their past lives. Of the war, and of her focus and attention to his wounds. She wore her hair braided when she had a mission in mind.

Hades made space for her, as he always did when she came around. Hera opened the box, grabbing her slice, and putting a couple on his plate, sidling up to him before closing the box for the time being. The air filled with heat, though whether it was from the steam of melted cheese or from her skin touching his, Hades was uncertain. His hunger ebbed some, strangled by other needs in that moment. He was already half naked, lounging only in tight boxer briefs and a silk robe. He had always liked the way it had felt on his skin. Reminded him of the very fabric Hera wore now. Almost the right hue.

“You do this on purpose, don’t you?” He asked, sliding one finger under the strap of her nightie. Her eyes narrowed as she slapped his hand away. Hades felt his own eyes grow wide, tilting his head in confusion at the act.

“No touching,” she spoke firmly, biting at the pizza with a vigor he thought she normally reserved for her husband. He blinked several times at her, his own slices neglected. “The fuck do you mean ‘no touching?’” He spat back at her, his eyes taking in the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts barely hidden behind the touch of navy blue. She glared back at him, and Hades became increasingly aware he had been drafted to a game that he was meant to lose. She was quite good at those.

“No touching,” Hera spoke firmly again, her tongue curling out to pluck an olive from her pizza in a motion that had his throat closing. She had often made him weak in this way, knowing full well her effect on him. On men. On anyone. Hades groaned.

“Is this punishment for something I’ve done?” He asked first, his eyes quick to close, not ready to admit his wrong doing to her again. How many times would he apologize to her for harboring feelings he would never control. For harboring a loneliness she could feel from Olympus. Perhaps that was the extent of his crime. Wanting when he was meant to feel powerful, wanted. He sighed, readying himself to apologize, but instead felt gentle hands on his temple. The fingers smelled of parmesan and garlic.

“You’ve been punishing yourself, Hades,” Hera spoke, though she seemed no less fearsome than she had only moments ago. His own eyes slid open slowly, catching the elaborate glow of her skin in his realm again. He wondered if Zeus ever noticed it briefly, before shoving the thought far to the back of his mind. “I might as well get some enjoyment out of your metaphorical self flagellation.”

Each breath came faster after that, watching Hera release his head from her grip to take a step back, the pizza long forgotten on the counter top. Her fingers worked slowly, unraveling the braid she knew he preferred and letting long golden curls billow out of it. She hummed as she went, taking her time parting the strands. Hades groaned again, covering his eyes with his hands. How long had Hera known?

“Stand up, Hades,” she ordered, and he found himself obeying The Queen before he could think better of it. He felt uncomfortably vulnerable before her, scars on fully display, a guilt he knew she harbored washing through him now instead. He’d kept his eyes closed, feeling, rather than watching, her pull the robe from his shoulders so he was nearly bare. “Look at me.”

Her words stung through him like a whip, crashing against his skin and forcing his eyes open in a second. She was stunning, ethereal in an entirely new way that had his teeth setting, fighting the rising heat in his cheeks and his cock. Hades was already at half mast, with his eyes on her, he could feel the raging hardon coming. Hera had chosen her stage carefully, pulling up the armchair he’d purchased when she’d mentioned it offhandedly once. The one he never sat in, even when home alone. It was high backed and large enough that she could spread her legs against it and let him peak at the damp fabric of her matching panties. A deeper navy blue that edged to a “V” so neatly. So temptingly.

“You remember what you said, Hades?” She spoke, her long fingers working over the carved arms of the chair delicately. He blinked again, trying to recall what they talked about earlier that evening, let alone the vague reference she was making now. “The last time, when you said we couldn’t do this again?” She answered for him, supplying desperately needed context, as he shifted in place, trying to supress the gasp that threatened to slip out of him.

“You said you would never touch me again, for the sake of your wicked brother’s good conscious and for mine,” Hera supplied, her fingers lifting from their perch to take refuge on her thighs. The tips of her fingers just missed the edge of the eyelash laced he liked tracing, the soft fabric always tickling his strong palms. Hades was almost panting then, wondering how it was he was meant to prostrate himself for her pleasure like this.

“You won’t defile your marriage, Hera,” he pleaded, trying to make a woman mad with lust and revenge see reason. Hades knew the idea was fraughtless, and tried anyway. He might have been the oldest, but moments like this reminded him of how very naive he was. Even Hera was quicker than him, her legs spreading further and the v of fabric tightening over her core. His mouth began to water in ways that his brain wanted to protest.

“Perhaps not,” Hera answered, her hands gliding over her own thighs slowly. He’d never wished to be nothing more than a hand in his few thousand years of life. He’d settle for a glove even. “But I will remind you that your refusal is for my benefit and no one else’s, am I understood?” Her voice cut right through him, his knees feeling weak, eyes watering, almost close to tears, though he couldn’t imagine why. One hand raised from its place on her thigh to beckon him closer with an upturned palm and one finger crooked toward him.

“Hera,” his voice no louder than a whisper as approached her, the same hand turning quickly to point to the ground in front of her makeshift throne. He sunk to his knees in front of her, sitting back on his heels and feeling the shift of his cock against the tighter fabric of the briefs. It took him several steadying moments of focus on the tread of the carpet against his knees before he could continue. She’d always held such power over him, and it was so rare that she exercised it in such a way.

Before he could stop himself, he was reaching, wanting to retrace her same path over her thighs, but a quick stern gaze stopped him, reaching instead for his own and feeling only mild disappointment and a brief sigh of relief. “What would you do if I let you?” She asked, though he was certain she knew the answer.

“I-” Hades found himself at a loss for words. A rare occurrence, but it happened, mouth dry and his hands almost shaking with the need to do something. He balled them into fists against his thighs, pushing down and into the muscle as if the hint of pain might be enough reminder for him to do as the goddess wished.

“I’d run my hands over that stupid gown, knowing full well you wear it to provoke me,” Hades had to choke down a sound he imagined might have grown into a moan, if he’d been allowed. “I’d trace every edge of the damned lace with my tongue until you were quivering.”

Hera smiled down at him then, not quite gentle, but with adoration. A reward for following instructions. Her pulsed rushed and he could almost taste her, the scent of it so thick in the air between him. Hades felt his tongue curl against his teeth, trying to lap at a flavor that was too far to taste. “Then I’d finally relent, tease the edge of it from your body carefully, not allowing the shift of your hips to give you away.” His fists curled tighter, the indent of his fingernails turning his skin a rackish shade of blue.  
“What then?” She asked, and in that moment, he could feel her restlessness. The stillness that she imposed on herself as much a punishment for herself as it had been for him. Her hands were doing as he said, toying the hem of the fabric, and suddenly the game took on new meaning. This could be their penance to one another for years of secrecy from their Ruler.

“I’d touch you,” he whispered, watching as her fingers slipped beneath the delicate satin and her cheeks pinked in the most beautiful shade of coral he’d even been witness to. It reached down her neck and over her shoulders and he wondered if the skin felt hotter there or at her entrance. “I’d work my tongue against you furiously, as you like, Hera,” Hades spoke, feeling his cock throb at the sense memory of her skin beneath him.

“I’d press my tongue against your sensitive clit until you were practically squealing, Hera,” he breathed, his head feeling almost too heavy to hold up, his knees cramping against the plush of the carpet. He vaguely thought he ought to have grabbed a pillow beforehand for his aching joints. “And then, when you told me you were close, teetering on that edge of coming fully undone, I would relent. Leave you panting, and angry, if only to watch you pout at me. Watch your brows furrow together so closely you almost appear crosseyed.”

He was impossibly hard thinking of it, the anger that would rival her blush for pinking her skin. The anger rising in her so quickly it would normally give him whiplash, but like this he found impossibly endearing. It diminished his loneliness, reminded him of his reasons for living. She was panting now, her fingers working the sensitive bud of nerves he so desperately wished to touch. It wouldn’t take much, she had been close to the edge before, and pizza had really only been a rouse to get her here. Hera had needed to see him, watch his face marvel at the sight of her. Worship, even.

“And then you’d finally fuck me?” Her voice was thin but controlled, egging him on as she continued teasing herself. He shook his head then, catching another whiff of the same intoxicating scent. He groaned, his head falling forward to rest on her knee. He wondered if she would push him off, and prepared himself for that inhale, to stifle rejection that would sting through his aching body.

“N-No,” he panted, surprised when one of her soft hands reaching into his hair and held firmly. Her fingers tangled, her own fingernails threatening to scratch his scalp in a way that ought not to have been so appealing. He throbbed harder, suddenly aware just how long it had been since he’d last felt the sweet relief of orgasm. “I’d wait a long moment, wait until your fury was at its full wrath, before sinking my tongue into you fully,” her fingers clutched at him, “and lick into you until I could feel you quake against my mouth.”

He felt her then, the briefest hint of complete unravel beginning with a shiver in her knees. They might have clashed together were his head not holding one in place. He could feel her legs move to clench together, but one of his wide palms held her open to ride out the tremors. He would pay for that later, he was sure. He finally released her limbs, and her fingers softened in his hair. She looked down at him in a mess of her own tangled curls, the ends reaching down to the mussed fabric of the lingerie she’d probably need dry cleaned now. Her eyes were unfocused, but sated, and she permitted his head in her lap as she carried on, feeling utterly boneless.

“You haven’t finished,” her voice accosted him and pulled him from the lingering endorphin rush. He hadn’t. And for some reason, that hadn’t mattered. She did, and he was placated enough by that. His hands rubbed at the outline of his black fabric, and he found the appendage to be far too sensitive at present. Hades only shrugged his shoulders back at her, letting his eyes drift closed as her hands moved to pet his sweat drenched hairline. They stayed like that a moment, catching their breath, wondering if this had edged into the more dangerous territory of emotional cheating. Hera didn’t think on it long. Hades didn’t think much of anything, allowing the feelings of guilt, shame, and everything else to wallow somewhere else in his mind.

“I suppose I should have warned you about my ulterior motives with the pizza,” she spoke plainly now, as if they’d not been seconds off from breaking every solemn vow that mattered. Hades shrugged again, his body tired, and his mind oddly at ease. “I’ve never cared what your motives might be,” he answered back, taking a chance and reaching with quick lips to kiss the silken thigh of The Goddess Queen. She scowled down at him, and the furrow of her brow reminded him of how much he’d always cared for her.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” Hades asked, rising with creaks in his knees and an ache in his neck he’d have to see a chiropractor for later. She shrugged back, mimicking him with such brilliance he wanted to be offended, and couldn’t. Still, she rose, every bit the Queen now, as before, plucking the pizza from it’s abandoned station on the counter and sauntering to the couch. She plopped down, patted the space beside her and he followed obediently, settling himself for what he was sure would become another ploy in her game.

**Author's Note:**

> STILL ACCEPTING ALL CLIFF NOTES. You guys don't even know how much I love that you're commenting with them :)
> 
> Still writing on some weird pain/shenanigans so this is also not proofread for sake of getting it in under the wire for Day 2!


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